When we left our old neighborhood last fall I shed a few tears. Not only would I miss the people who had been in my life for so many years, but also I didn’t see how we could ever hope to ever have such kind, understanding, and helpful neighbors ever again. Boy was I wrong!
On Tower Road, our last address and the one at which I was born, people knew our idiosyncrasies (and worse) and loved us anyway. Plus, we had pajama-clad neighbor boys who would run down the street mornings when we were away just to make sure that Puddycat got fed promptly. If the boys were away or busy, someone would always provide cat care, package collection, and just general neighborhood watch. Little did I realize I’d be asking for so much more.
In the eight months we’ve lived in Middle Tennessee we’ve grown this farm from just a lovely piece of real estate into an ever-changing farm where no one day is like another because something always happens to change any plans we’ve made for a day. At first when we went away, Puddycat would shift for herself; she discovered that the self-proclaimed Cat Woman next door feeds her strays far finer fare than any dished up here. (I always figured that if the cat wanted a warm or wet meal, she could catch it herself. When I had the opportunity to feed the cats next door recently I understood why our Sissybelle always seemed to appear from the neighbor’s yard when I’d come out or arrive home. She feeds meaty chunks in gravy served from single-serving envelopes, and that’s just for starters.
Now, Puddycat, a.k.a. Sissibelle, a.k.a. RastaCat is gone. She vanished a couple of weeks back one night when the coyotes were particularly active and close. All we have left that require sitters for us to leave them are the geese, chickens, goats, horses, and alpacas. No more simple “Please feed the cat” notes. No. Designing a workable plan for weekend stand-ins was as challenging as writing the first Substitute Plans for a school year.
When I’d mentioned that we wished to go away for Mother’s Day, the World’s Greatest Neighbors said, “We’d love to” mind the farm. And yes, I love what I do here, but it takes hours each day, so I wondered … what neighbor wants to spend that kind of time looking out for the folks next door? But on Friday they agreed to come over twice: once in the morning to review the plans I’d written, and again in the afternoon for a dry run-through of the tasks.
Since Heidi is fiercely protective of Lucy’s new filly, we arranged it so that the neighbors would have no contact with the Livestock Guardians. That cut out the geese, the billygoats, and the big fainter gals. And the chickens are self-sufficient, so they didn’t need watching. That still left the World’s Best Neighbors with nine separate areas of animals needing attention twice daily, including the day-old filly and the six-day-old bucklings—of which the runt is still struggling to survive as neither doe is willing to feed him voluntarily. “No problem,” they said and meant it!
When all was set and I reminded them that we often leave later than originally planned, they urged us to be “on vacation” beginning Saturday morning even if we didn’t actually leave at the crack of dawn as planned. Since we didn’t leave until late afternoon, that allowed me a full day of “staycation” time, and I finally understood the importance of respite care for beleaguered caregivers. What a glorious feeling!
Over the weekend we received one simple question via text message. No emergency calls. No emergencies. For all we could tell life on the farm was running as smoothly as we’d planned.
This morning we pulled in sometime after 2:30 a.m. and when I went to the barn to check on the animals I saw what challenges our fabulous neighbors had faced without a peep. The alpaca boys had stormed the fence and encroached on the females’ territory. The goats’ behavior had warranted the addition of wooden door-jambs to multiple doors. The furious rains had washed gullies into the gravel drive, maintained the water level in the run-off buckets, and left animals huddling together to stay dry. And, oh yes, the dogs had done something to warrant their dinner being taken up during what are usually their free-feeding night hours. (I learned in daylight that the food had been removed because the big fainter girls [left roaming freely for the weekend within the perimeter fence] had challenged the dogs for their food causing a goat to be attacked. Whichever goat that was, I’m glad to report that she’s fine. I see no evidence of damage on any of them.)
So, what makes this couple the World’s Greatest Neighbors? Well, not only did they successfully manage the farm with all its unexpected challenges, but also Theresa reported this morning, “We had fun!”
We are never moving again.
Thank you, Amazing Neighbors!
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